Fleeting
by arenaCeous
Summary: oneshot  A love story that ends before it begins


A/N: Oh hello friends! This was written for Miss Caroline Potter's Pairing Songfic Competition. Hope you enjoy. I recommend actually listening to the song in the background while you read the story; it adds to the mood and it definitely helped with writing it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the song School Night. They belong to two wonderful artists, JK Rowling and Ani Difranco respectively.

**xoxo xoxo xoxo xoxo xoxo xoxo**

"As happens sometimes a moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment. And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment " – John Steinbeck

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July 8, 1997.

_She went over to his apartment, clutching her decision_

_And he said, "Did you come here, to tell me goodbye?"_

_So she built a skyscraper of procrastination _

_And then she leaned out the 25th floor window of her reply_

"I guess this is it then," he mutters into her wildly untamed mane of bushy hair. It's a blazing hot summer day in mid-July, just weeks before they are scheduled to collect Harry from Privet Drive. They're sitting on the couch in the sitting room of his flat. George is downstairs managing the shop while the two sit in silence, thinking of the best way to say goodbye to someone you still plan on seeing on a daily basis.

"I'm so sorry Fred," she turns her tear streaked face towards him, untangling herself from his grasp, fearing that if she didn't do it now she would succumb to weakness and beg him to never let her go. "We can't do this, not to him, not to them."

_She felt like an actress, just reading her lines_

_When she finally said, "yes it's really goodbye this time"_

_Far below was the blacktop, and the tiny toy cars_

_And it fall fell so fast and it all fell so far_

Forcing a smile, Fred pushes a stray hair out of her face and rises to his feet. He disappears into the kitchen to gather his composure, collect the boiling kettle of tea that had been whistling for at least ten minutes, and returns to the sitting room with assorted dishes and treats levitating behind him. Pouring her a cup of tea Fred returns to his seat next to her and offers it to her, which she accepts gratefully.

"Hey," he laughs, trying to lighten the mood. "Remember when I asked you to the Yule Ball?" Hermione blushes because she remembers that day more clearly than she remembers the contents ofHogwarts, A History. Nodding she leans further back into the couch, lifting her legs so her knees are bent and her feet and situated right next to his thighs. Hugging her cup of tea to her chest, she smiles at him with her pearly white teeth, the kind you can only have with having dentists as parents. His heart nearly skips a beat, but he forces himself to keep calm, reminds himself that she isn't his and never will be.

_What of the mother, whose house is in flames_

_And both of her children are in their beds crying_

_She loves them both, with the whole of her heart_

_But she knows she can only carry one at a time_

"I remember, you nearly gave Madame Pince a heart attack," she says, trying hard to fight down the blush creeping up her neck once more. She was fifteen years old again, shocked and astonished as she watched him stride into the library as if he owned it. Madame Pince stood ready to pounce; sure he was up to no good. Hermione couldn't blame her though. The sight of Fred Weasley in the library was a beat short of a miracle. He marched right up to her table, sat on top of her Transfiguration textbook and with a wink he said _"How 'bout it brains, you and me, Yule ball" _The entire library watched them with gaping mouths, wondering what could be so important that he actually came into the library to talk to her. Smiling fondly over the memory Hermione laughs and nudges his leg with her foot. "Too bad you were a day late."

"You would have said no anyways."

"You're wrong."

Silence engulfs them both as they pause to consider the true meaning of her words. Two words that made them wonder what would have happened if he had beaten Krum to it. Would they have realized their feelings sooner? Would she have gotten over Ron? Would they even be here right now? Fred remembers brushing it off like it was no big deal, walking away before she caught onto how disappointed he was. At the actual ball, everyone was too busy noticing how jealous Ron was they failed to notice Fred's reaction as she entered the Great Hall on Viktor Krum's arm. Sure he danced up a storm with Angelina and had a grand ol' time, but she wasn't Hermione.

_She's choking on the smoke of unthinkable choices_

_And she's haunted by the voices of so many desires_

_She's bent over from the business of begging forgiveness_

_While frantically running around putting out fires_

"Fred . . . " Her voice trails off, knowing exactly what's on his mind. Everything had changed between them that night he asked her to the ball; they just hadn't realized it at the time. It crept up on them slowly, unnoticed until one single moment at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Hermione, at the tender age of fifteen fresh out of her fourth year, was going through things any normal teenage girl would go through – minus the fact that her world was on the brink of war. After all the attention she received at the Yule ball, Viktor's included, Hermione began to see herself as more than booksmart brains.

Harry still hadn't arrived yet, Ron was off playing Quidditch with all the rest of the boys in the house, and Ginny of course being herself joined them. Hermione was left alone in a bathroom, coating her hair with product that would tame its wildness and dabbling with some makeup.

Fred chose that moment to come stumbling into the bathroom, laughter etched upon his blood smeared face. Hermione took one look at his disheveled appearance and shook her head. "Quidditch," she muttered disapprovingly. Raising one eyebrow at Fred she asked "What happened to you?"

He was staring at her like she was some stranger he had never met before. Forgetting his original need for use of the bathroom, Fred could hardly believe it was Hermione standing before him. "Forget me," he exclaimed loudly, "What in merlin's name happened to _you_? You look ridiculous!" Grimacing in a disapproving matter that showed he was anything but pleased over Hermione's new look, he walked up to her and fingered strands of her sleek hair in between his fingers. "What _have_ you done to yourself princess?"

Clearly offended, Hermione stepped back and slapped his hand away. She was hoping to get a more positive reaction out of her change, and though she couldn't really explain why, she wanted Fred to like it the most.

"I was just leaving,"

Fred felt horrible. It wasn't his intention to hurt her feelings. Grabbing her wrist before she could leave he began spouting off his apology. "Look," he told her, releasing his grip once he was sure she wouldn't storm off. "I just meant that you don't need all this stuff Hermione. You've always been pretty just the way you are."

That was when Hermione Granger first realized she had feelings for him.

_But then what kind of scale compares the weight of two beauties_

_The gravity of duties_

_Or the groundspeed of joy_

_Tell me what kind of gage can quantify a nation_

_What kind of equation could I possibly implore?_

He takes advantage of her silence as she reminisces over the past. Taking her cup of tea from her hands and replacing it with his own, Fred scoots closer to her, his face a mere inches from hers. "Fr –" she begins to whisper, but is silenced by the feel of his lips against her own. The familiar feeling floods her mind with memories of the first time he kissed her. Ron had just been poisoned and Harry and all the Weasleys stood surrounding his hospital bed, waiting for him to wake up. Hermione was the only one sitting on his bed, holding his hand between hers while fondly smiling down at his sleeping figure.

Fred felt terrible for being so jealous of his brother. Unable to suppress the anger he felt bubbling inside of him he turned to leave but was stopped by his mother's voice. "Where are you going?" she asked. Fred muttered something about "food" and begins to walk away.

"Wait for me, I'm starving." Fred's ears perked up at the sound of Hermione's voice. He turned to smile at her and waited for her to leave Ron's bedside and join him. He had already made up his mind on what he was going to do; he knew that it was now or never.

Fred followed her out the door and once it had shut behind them, he grabbed her upper arm and pulled her close to him. "FR –" she began to protest, but was silenced by the feel of his lips against her own. Fred's left hand released her arm and made its way to her lower back, his other hand entangling itself in wildly untamed locks. Nevermind the fact that his little brother was lying in the Hospital Wing on the other side of the door having nearly died from poisoning, and that he's loved his girl for as long as he could remember, Fred cared too much to give her up without a fight.

Their bodies melded together as he felt her arms wind around his neck, returning his kiss with enthusiasm. This was exactly the response he was hoping for when he resolved to finally grow a pair and admit how he felt. In desperate need of air he pulled back, panting slightly, leaving her standing there with her arms around his neck, smiling brilliantly and breathless.

"I've been wanting to do that for over two years," he whispered, smiling back at her. Wrapping his arms around her he lifted Hermione off the ground and was rewarded with a squeal of laughter when he hugged her tight to his body and spun her around. He was ecstatic. Hermione Granger liked him back. He kept her lifted off the ground as hr placed a kiss on her cheek and gave him one of his famous mischievous smirks. "I always knew all those detentions you gave me were just a way to get my attention."

Hermione responded with another kiss, with just as much excitement as before.

"Hermione -" Fred released her in surprise and she landed on the ground with a soft thud of her feet. She paled instantly; realizing whom it was that had interrupted their happy moment. Harry was staring at them in disbelief, not expecting her to be right outside the door. He thought he would have to travel down to the Great Hall to find her. He removed his glasses and cleaned them with the sleeve of his robe to make sure what he had just witnessed was real. The pair of them said nothing, just stared at him in guilty silence until Harry finally said "Ron's awake. He's asking for you."

Without a word to him, Hermione followed Harry back into the Hospital Wing.

_And she said, "you are a miracle, but that is not at all,_

_You are also a stiff drink, and I am on call_

_You are a party, and I am a school night_

_And I'm looking for my door key but you are my porch light_

Hermione's eyes snap open; the image of Ron lying in the hospital wing flooding her memory brings her back to reality and she pushes Fred away before her resolve crumbles to even more pieces. "We can't."

"Why are you so against giving this a chance?" he cries out in frustration, releasing his hold on her and rising to his feet.

"Because I love him!" she yells, following his lead as she jumps to her feet and backs away from him. "I have loved him for my entire life, and right now he and Harry need me." That moment Ron held her in his arms during Dumbledore's funeral Hermione knew what her decision was. It was that moment of realization that led her to Fred's flat on this hot, sunny afternoon.

"More than you love me?" His eyes drop downward, hands clenched so tightly if he curled them in tighter he would draw blood. Their first kiss had been a mere few months ago, and all the other kisses that followed were all spontaneous and fleeting. No talk of love had ever passed between them, even though Fred knows he loves her; that he's loved her for years but failed to notice it until that day. She reaches up to caress his cheek but he jerks away from her touch, as if it would burn him. His face is beginning to show signs of the infamous Weasley temper and she knows that if she doesn't leave soon, she never will.

"Yes," she cries, pulling back from him, hurt by his reaction to her touch. Fred could not decide how he felt about her answer. On the one hand, she admitted that she loves him, something he was never sure of but on the other hand, she loves his brother more. "Otherwise I wouldn't be doing this." Turning on her heel she marches to the door and grasps the knob firmly, but does not turn it. She waits for him to say something, anything; maybe beg her to stay, convince her that she loves him more than Ron, call her bluff and accuse her of lying. But he doesn't, because he knows that she speaks the truth, and because he loves Ron too. When he offers nothing – not even a goodbye, Hermione chokes back a sob, and with a heaving sigh she turns the handle, swings the door open and walks out of his life.

_And you'll never know dear just how much I love you_

_You probably think this was just my big excuse_

_But I stand committed to a love that came before you_

_And the fact that I adore you is just one of my truths_

May 1, 1998

In the Room of Requirement Hermione listens to Harry argue with the rest of the DA. They're all adamant on helping. As terrible as it sounds, Hermione can't help but feel a sense of calm and familiarity wash over her, despite being on the brink of war. She was home again, back at Hogwarts with friends she feared dead. Neville answers Harry angirly, but Hermione is distracted by a noise behind them. Turning around she watches as Ginny climbs through the hole in the wall , with Fred following close behind.

She resists the urge to cry out. Close to tears she forces herself to remain rooted to her spot, wanting nothing more than to run into his arms. It had been ten months she last saw him, since she had broken his heart. He looks right past her, speaking directly to Harry about Aberforth getting annoyed.

She's sure he isn't gong to acknowledge her, but then there it is; that fleeting moment where he looks straight at her and smiles at her, his eyes shining with relief that only comes with learning the person you love is alive, and okay. The moment lingers on for a few more seconds before it disappears, and Hermione is drawn back to reality, back to the war.

"Just going to make it up as we go along, are we? My favourite kind."

_So I, I'm going home_

_To please the one I so love pleasing_

_And I don't expect_

_He'll have much sympathy for my grieving_

_But I guess that this is the price_

_That we pay for the privilege_

_Of living for even a day_

_In a world with so many things_

_Worth believing in. _

She's lying in a pile of wreckage, disoriented from the blast. Someone had blown a hole through the wall. Struggling to her feet Hermione stares out through the hole into the night sky and can't help but think how pretty the stars look.

And then she hears it, a gut-wrenching cry of anguish. Three words that make her heart stop beating.

"**No! Fred! No!"**

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And then the moment was gone. . .


End file.
